


Irritant

by Anonymous



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Mild Blood, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Teasing, Xeno, episode 92, light dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-21 22:45:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13750761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: He saw Michael practically wiggling with anticipation. Those bright eyes and feral grin held all the glee and madness of an overly excited, yet demonstrably rabid, puppy.Elias had called Michael an "irritant" that "serves no purpose". Well, it has found a purpose, to unmake Elias Bouchard.





	Irritant

“That was very well played,” came a voice from behind him.

He stiffened, there are decidedly few things capable of sneaking up on Elias Bouchard, Head of the Magnus Institute. In his own office no less. It had been quite a while since he encountered this particular _irritant_ personally though. Elias did not turn around to address the entity behind him. He would not offer a reward for its indiscretions.

“I made it abundantly clear you are no longer welcome in this place.”

“You said as much, yeeeessssss.” it drew out the word, pulling a loose thread on the fabric of reality, gathering tension that snapped back into place when it had finished.

“And yet, you continue to trespass. _In my own office, no less_.”

“Your attempts to eradicate my footholds were thorough, yes, but ultimately… unsuccessful.”

“So it would seem.” Elias continued to face away from the thing that had invaded his office. He refused to give it the satisfaction it so clearly wanted.

Peals of laughter clawed at the edges of sanity, erupting color behind his eyes. “You cannot destroy what you cannot find and you cannot find if you do not look.”

“I did a rather thorough search though it appears I must perform another.” He sighed, blinking his Sight clear.

Michael rounded the desk to face Elias. “You may have learned to See but you have forgotten how to look.” Its blond curls obscured much of its face, though the eyes and mouth made themselves known in a way that would make the Cheshire Cat proud.  

“Well, at this point it hardly matters.” Elias sighed, “Jonathan is so enamored, despite my efforts to the contrary, he would likely walk you in through the front door, given half a chance.”

“Hmmmm, your Archivist can be a rather… entertaining distraction.” It placed a single pointed finger on it’s chin as if to contemplate a fond memory. “Almost as entertaining as you were.”

Lightning fast, Michael shot a hand toward Elias, pinching his cheek with its knuckles like a particularly adorable child. It did not cut him but the dry leather left behind a feeling like tinnitus ringing on his skin. Surprise flooded through him at the assault, the sensation all but unfamiliar since he had come into his power so many years ago.

Elias swiped at the hand but it was already gone. This was dangerous territory. His advantages held no dominion where the Distortion is concerned. He should be afraid; he cannot read or predict the actions of the thing masquerading as a person. Yet there was no fear, only anticipation and excitement warming his face.

“What do you want?” Elias demanded. “I have more important things to do that to talk in circles with a self-important grease stain smeared across the window of existence.

Its gasp of faux shock made the hair raise on the back of his neck. “You wound me, Watcher! There was a time when you very much wanted to see me.”

“I know better now.” he insisted evenly.

“Know better? I don’t think you do.” It laughed a horrid noise that lit a fire up his spine and ignited in his chest. “You are turning that _delightful_ shade of red.”

Elias held his tongue, Michael had been pouncing on his irritation, attempting to fluster him. It vexed him that it was beginning to work. Instead, he focused on composing himself. He would not fall victim to habits long broken. No matter how enjoyable they once were...

Defiant silenced stretched taut as Michael made a lingering, appraisal of Elias. Its eyes played across his body reminiscent of an imagined undressing. Though the way the creature before him aped the gesture gave the distinct impression the “undressing” involved pulling away skin and peeling apart bone.

“You have done quite well for yourself, since coming into your power. Very well put together.” It hummed, “I should rather enjoy taking you apart.” Too many teeth, all of them razor sharp canines, filled the approximation of a smile on its face.

A low, confident chuckle flowed from Elias’s throat. “I would like to see you try.”

Michael shifted closer without seeming to have moved, “You actually think you could stop me if I did!”

“I’m not the same man I was when we first met.”

“Congratulations, Watcher! You have managed to find the exact appeal in the situation.” It steepled its fingers, clacking in a rhythm his brain refused to grasp.

It laughed, high and low all at once. The sound of fingernails on a chalkboard layered over an out of tune violin, caused Elias’s Vision to blur. With each note of its discordant laughter a screeching interference spread, blanketing all he could See.

What his eyes see and what he Knows were telling him conflicting stories. Eyes can be lied to easily enough by a great many things in the world, Elias included. As such, he had trained himself to ignore his physical eyes when his perceptions conflicted. This impulse played into the Distortion’s reality-mocking hands as squealing interference solidified and pushed against his other senses.

“Stop it.” he Commanded the thing throwing a tantrum in his office.

“oooOOOhhhh, that’s quite nice actually. Tingly.”

His own words, parroted back at him, landed like a slap to the face. Elias dug his fingers into the desktop in an attempt to ground himself amid the swirling chaos violating him on all sides. He closed his eyes, all of them, and much of the pressure in his head eased.

Opening only the two he was born with, he saw Michael practically wiggling with anticipation. Those bright eyes and feral grin held all the glee and madness of an overly excited, yet demonstrably rabid, puppy.

“You spread yourself too thin, Watcher. Rely overmuch on your network of prying eyes to see for you. It will not help you against me.”

“I believe your point has been made, you may go now.” Elias ground out through clenched teeth.

“Oh…?” Looping discordant harmonies filled the air. “But I haven’t finished… dismantling you?”

Its words should not have elicited the sensations they did. He was accustomed to the position of power, of authority. It had been another life when he had last felt the final threads of control slipping, no--  pulled from his grasp. He’d forgotten the thrill of losing his dominion, of being forced to submit to another’s will.

Michael flicked out a too fast finger, drawing a scratch along his face, below the eye.

Elias fought to tell himself his pupils had blown wide in an attempt to draw more detail from his surroundings in the absence of his Sight. His sharp intake of breath at Michael’s touch was not from excitement. The note echoing along his face was one of a pain he certainly did _not_ want to feel over and over again.

“You would like for me to dismantle you, Watcher?” It was not a question.

Elias schooled his features, “I would like for you to leave.”

“You have learned to lie!” Hollow appreciation added to its cacophony. “But I have learned to see. Not in all the ways you do, of course,” its lilting laugh making the room pitch and yaw, “but in the ways a human might observe another. You put on a good show, Watcher. A very good show.” Michael licked its lips, “I see through your performance.”

“Michael,” he began.

Names have power, even a false name claimed for your own if worn long enough. Elias put as much power behind his statement as he could muster through the budding migraine that seemed to accompany the Distortion, “ _Michael,_ I will not play your games. _Leave._ **_NOW!_ ** _”_

The air vibrated with conflicting power. Elias felt gratified in the decision to shutter his Sight as the display of raw Power against Power may well have overwhelmed him. Even without Seeing he could feel all his hairs stand on end and taste static in his nose and mouth. For the briefest moments, he thought he had won, forced the Distortion from this place.

Pressure built to a crescendo that tore with a scream of shearing metal that was not heard but felt along every nerve. A protracted stillness hung in the wake of the broken tension.

It _smiled_.

“That was _very_ good.” Michael had the audacity to offer a slow clap, its arms moving in patterns not possible for the bone structure it currently pretended to wear. “Impressive even? You are proving to be nearly as entertaining as your Archivist.” Michael went very still, meeting eyes with Elias, neither blinking.

“My turn.”

 

* * *

  
  


Awareness of the Observer preceded true consciousness. Elias saw himself laid out face down across the desk, feet dangling off the edge. His jacket and shirt had been pulled down to mid arm. The fabric was torn and clumsily knotted into makeshift bindings that secured his arms at the elbows and wrists behind him. Most distressing, however, was how his handkerchief and tie had been used to gag him.

All and all, a very undignified position to find oneself in.

_Hoisted by my own petard, it would seem._

“You can’t see me from there properly, Watcher.” Michael crooned. “Come join us?”

It was not wrong, his gifts were all but useless when it came to observing the Distortion. It would seem Michael was interested in continuing with its games. Elias told himself he was not inclined to indulge if he could avoid it. He needn't lie to himself, from the appearance of his unconscious body, this was not something he _could_ avoid...

A line of crimson drew itself across his back that he both Saw and felt. The pain pulled Elias fully back into himself, the gag stifling a moan. Michael stood over him and examined the blood clinging to its elongated digits before flicking some at Elias’s face.

“First-hand experience is so much more _powerful_ than watching at a distance. Your Archivist has certainly been taking that lesson to heart lately.” Its amusement vibrated the edges of reality in an almost pleasant way.

Grasping at the tatters of his dignity, Elias did his best to glower at the abomination perched on the edge of his desk. It rested on one hip, knee, both, neither? Best not to dwell over long. It thrives on the little moments when a rational mind loses the ability to comprehend. Unsettling though it is, Elias had plenty of experience with the non-Euclidean geometry of Michael’s body. He would not be unmade that easily.

_If the Distortion wants to break me, it will have to earn it by doing more than showing a little leg._

Elias tugged at his bonds with a muffled grunt. The bindings holding his arms weren’t particularly tight, given time he should be able pull his arms free from the ruins of his jacket. Not that he expected Michael to give him that time given its mood. However, if it decided this humiliation was sufficient entertainment and left him to his own devices, he would likely be able to escape before anyone found him in this state.

The Distortion had him at its mercy, or whatever a creature like Michael could conceive of the concept. His own helplessness was not a sensation Elias should find arousing. He wanted to attribute his elevated heart rate to fear induced adrenaline. While that may have been true, it was not the whole truth. The places in his body he felt blood flowing exposed the lie before it could form.

“Your suit was very handsome, Watcher.” It purred. “Though I seem to find you more attractive in shambles.”

Michael walked his pointed fingers along his exposed back, leaving puncture marks singing in their wake, each a different note on a scale he cannot comprehend. Elias bit down on the gag and tried to remain silent. Despite his best efforts a sound more pleasure than pain filtered through the handkerchief blocking his voice.

The Distortion shuddered at the noise. Reality vibrated in concert, blurring Elias’s vision and sending a rush of endorphins through him. Heady with the sensation, he fought the urge to grind against his desk

“You make such beautiful noises! Almost a pity... the need for a muzzle. Were I to remove it I presume you would attack me with your words again? We can’t have that.”

Elias pushed a dissenting series of vowels through the fabric in his mouth and shook his head.

“Tsk...tsk... tsk. What did I say about lying?” Michael smiled broadly and pushed its face against Elias’s. “Failing is learning, perhaps you will convince me next time.” It breathed its own lies into his ear.

It moved to straddle him, settling its weight along the back of his hips. Michael ran a finger smoothly through the flesh on his back, connecting the notes still ringing there into grotesque chords. Elias was drawn into the dissonant symphony playing across is skin, adding his muffled cries to its chorus.

“Hmm… Yes, much more appealing when at a loss for words.” It shifted its weight languidly across him causing Elias’s hips to buck in response.

“Ohhhh…?” it trilled, pinning him in place with more weight than it’s willowy frame should allow. “Is there something you want, Watcher?”

Breathing now ragged behind the gag, Elias sharply shook his head once. He pulled at the fabric trapping his arms attempting to free himself. Before he could make any progress, it trapped his wrist. A sharp grip gradually increasing its pressure until warmth began seeping into the silk of his shirtsleeve.

There was no sensation of motion yet the voice was at his ear again anyway. “Is there something you... want?”

Again, he shook his head, “no”. The bladed vise grip on his wrist renewed its press inward.

“Oh, Watcher, I am disappointed in you.” Michael sighed a dry breath in his ear. Elias was not quite able to suppress a shudder when the air hit his skin. “If you won’t convey truth… you must lie better. I will ask again… and if I detect a lie? There will be…a repercussion.”

The pressure on his wrist halted but did not release. The implication was clear: admit the truth or lose a hand. He wanted to fight against this thing on principle, to deny the way the situation gratified him in ways he could never hope articulate. If he admitted a truth he supplied that information to Michael, of his own accord, to be used against him. The Distortion wanted to make him the agent of his own undoing.

“Is there…?” It undulated along his body, applying pressure to all the wrong places in all the right ways. Elias couldn’t stop the moan that tore itself from his throat.

“Something…” A lighter pressure teased along his hips. Elias breath hitched in his chest as he squeezed shut his eyes.

“You want…?”

Aside from his ragged breathing, Elias had frozen in place. Michael held Elias’s wrist secure, blood flowed along his arm. “Watcher...Your response?” There was a nearly imperceptible shift of Michael’s weight against his body. Elias, defeated, whimpered into his gag. He nodded his head and stopped fighting his need to roll his hips against Michael

“Good boy,” it buzzed, filling the space with a static tangible on his skin.

The sharp pressure disappeared from his wrist and was replaced with something softer, stemming the flow of blood down his arm.

Michael had disappeared from his back and was again inexplicably balanced along his desk’s edge. It watched as Elias writhed and moaned in frustration, its smirk growing to its limit, surpassing, and growing ever wider

Resting its head in hands supported only by void, Michael cocked its head. “You didn’t expect me to actually _fulfill_ your desires?” It barked out a laugh that hit like a shattered guitar. Elias felt a trickle of blood in his ear. The Distortion flicked out an obscene tongue and lapped the blood, sending tremors through them both.

Elias resumed his struggles, protestation growing louder and angrier despite their impediment. “We are done here, Watcher. I consider you to have been properly dismantled.” it sighed, “I am sorry if you find your current situation… _irritating_.” it finished with a giggle.

Muffled curses spilled forth from the bound man left twisting on the desk.

“If only I served some kind of _purpose_ , perhaps then... “ The thing pretending to be human blew kisses as it backed out of Elias’s field of vision. He felt a hearty slap land on his ass before he lost all awareness of the Distortion

Elias managed to dislodge most of the gag in a wet heap in front of him. “ _Michael!”_ he cursed into the air.

Reality warped in front of his eyes redepositing twisting limbs, feral grin, and sharp eyes wearing curly blond hair in in his office once again. “You rang?”

“I- I- That’s not- You need to- _mmpph!”_ Michael clamped its hand across Elias’s mouth cutting off the tirade.

“What did I say about using your words? Hmmmm… You are so much more enticing without them.” It shifted fluidly and was again sitting atop Elias’s hips, hand still blocking the flow of his diatribe.

It forced his legs apart then pressed a knee, a hand, something, against his more sensitive areas, wringing a groan from Elias into the hand pressing against his lips. The Distortion extended its head just to the edge of Elias’s vision and exhaled a long breath against his face. He shuddered and jerked in response to the stimulus.

“I suppose I am _bored_ and could be persuaded to _interfere_ , given the right _incentive_ ” Michael punctuated his words with a squeeze or a thrust and was rewarded with delicious corresponding moans from the man beneath it. “You must _admit_ that you _chose_ this.

“You _want_ this.

“You are _complicit_ in your own _destruction_.”

Michael slowly removed its hand from his face, trailing a ringing on his skin and pressure behind his ears. He swallowed and his ears popped with sound of a wounded flute.

“Watcher? Your answer?” It had gone dangerously still, waiting.

He did want this, to throw control to the wind and be taken apart at the seams. Michael already knew, he’d admitted as much to it already. A nod would not be sufficient this time, it was going to make him say it. The words caught in his throat even as his pulse throbbed in his erection. His breathing became more rapid as his frustration grew. “I- I do,” he admitted, “I want this.”

The cacophony of pleasure radiating from Michael filled his senses with a symphony being torn apart by hyenas, blood and joy and mangled instruments. The thing on his back proceeded to cut strips in the fabric of his trousers with razor fingers, occasionally slicing into his thighs. Its stinging touch sent Stradivarius notes bowed with a lead pipes arcing through him. With each touch, his voice rose to match their melody.

“Will a gag be necessary?” The creature mounted atop him hummed, the reverberations playing along frayed nerve endings. Elias gasped out a negative response.

A sly smile spread across all of Michael, running from where its face should be down the entire length of it. “Do you want it anyway?”

A flush of shame warmed his already too hot face and neck. Elias said nothing.

“Hmmm… That’s what I thought.” Satisfaction played into the orchestrations that still hung in the air.

Grabbing him roughly by the hair, it wrenched his head back. No sooner had Elias gasped than a wad of fabric was shoved into his open mouth. An impossible motion later and the gag was tied securely in place stifling his voice and eliminating his ability to Command. Losing his first weapon and last defense filled him with a rush of fear and excitement that nearly sent him over the edge.

Strong arms pulled him down his desk until his feet met the floor. Knees buckling, he managed to recover without falling. Elias attempted to stand only to be forced back down by a too warm, too sharp hand on his neck. Legs kicked roughly apart, Michael continued to tease at contact while it shredded the remainder of his slacks.

He moaned his muffled frustration into the desk surface. Yearning to touch himself, he fought against the bindings on his arms. Frayed from Michael’s earlier attentions, the fabric trapping his wrists snapped free though he was still pinned at the elbows. He reached forward, nearly there, his fingers barely brushed against his desperate cock.

Michael’s laugh shearing sharp octaves from rusted harp strings as Elias howled and pleaded through the gag. It only stopped its achingly slow work to keep him from rutting against the desk. It finished its task with a flourish, pulling the remaining fabric away in a single, narrow strip. The ruined clothing landed on the floor in a dizzying array of interconnected spirals, forming the illusion of descent into the floor. At least he hoped it was an illusion.

Hands, too many to fully comprehend and not enough to satisfy his need, roamed across his body. The touches were a riot of sensation; soft caresses, sharp cuts, cold static, rich sounds vibrated through his very being; all competing and combining in highs, lows, and unknowable directions until Elias was sure his mind would shatter.

Elias knew he would be destroyed here. Torn apart at the molecular level, sensation so intense it ripped his consciousness into jagged shards. And beyond it, the knowledge that this was what he wanted, he chose to let go and fall to this. He was his own destruction. It could end if he asked; not his pathetic begging for it to stop or for the release of an orgasm, but a true admission of defeat. He _knew_ that if he asked, Michael would stop and leave him broken in his office. Damaged, but not destroyed.

He did not ask.

A firm pressure pushed into him and Elias was stretched open. Gradually, achingly, _magnificently_ filled, he rode the edge of a limit just out of reach. It pulsed in waves that never seemed to crash along a shore, carrying him along infinite oceans.

His muscles burned, he struggled away from and thrust against things his memory refused to grasp. The vocalizations torn out him left his throat raw. Under the beautiful nightmares of the Distortion’s curving aria, Elias heard his own desperate keening.

He had torn off the restraints holding his arms. Or Michael had cut them with its hands or teeth or... It didn’t matter, they hung in tatters from arms that were now held by too sharp fingers wrapped in dry leather that left behind the high pitched song of tinnitus playing across his skin. Even now, his frantic hands were not allowed to connect with his own flesh.

Cold, slick, warm, and dry, the Distortion enveloped what he had been trying so desperately to reach. The touch burst across his vision, brilliant and intense. Roiling pressure pulsed along his cock in exquisite dissonance with straining tension inside him. Every time he _finally_ thought he would come, it was snatched away at the last moment. He would never be allowed to fall from the highs of sensation, forever climbing a mountain with a summit nowhere in sight.

Had he died? What was that about being trapped in the hell of your own choosing? How long had he been like this? Hours? Days? Years? What really is time on a never ending journey where every sensation was continually dialed up past the point where it should have shattered him?

“Open your eyes.”

Blood dripped into his eye, from his eye? His ear? Both? He tasted it in his mouth, thankful for the gag’s continued presence. Not that it was doing much to truly silence him, but it was likely the only reason he hadn’t bitten through his tongue by now. The spiral that had once been his trousers drew his eye and he nearly lost himself in its swirling patterns.

“No, Watcher, open all of your Eyes.” The thing pretending to be a man called Michael commanded.

Elias opened his Eyes and Saw. A pandemonium of roiling information flooded his Awareness, filling the last spaces of his consciousness with chromatic starbursts. It was finally too much and every edge and threshold he had been pushing against breached at once. He came harder and longer than he ever had in his life. His vision tinged white at the edges. His body, spent and worn, collapsed to the floor. Discordant notes faded from his skin, laughter gathered sharply in his ears, and pressure grew in his head until, at last, darkness claimed him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I blame The Thirst
> 
> Extra special thanks to lavosse for the beta and editing!


End file.
